Strictly not-an-election post

I have been on a blogging break, the one-off movie review or rhyme aside. It's not like I haven't been writing during this hiatus - mostly in solitude without sharing it with anyone else - a lot like the break I took from sex a little over 25 years ago.

There has been a utter lack of inspiration. This condition was exacerbated by my clarity on refraining from voicing my ideas on The Great Indian Political Juggernaut - mostly, because anything you say antagonizes at least one section of my minuscule readership, and also because *skhruff* *khuaahh* death!

Gilli gilli goom!

It is mind-numbingly, nut-crunchingly suffocating. I pick up the morning paper - there he is peering through his broad glasses, gesticulating in every random way possible - a distorted victory symbol, abracadabra hand twist and something which couldn't be anything but Fleming's left hand rule (or perhaps, the 'right hand rule' in this particular case).

Then there's the folded arms guy. Come to think of it. There is a reason he is made to stand in the centre of all those people in the posters. If he were on one extreme, the advert would simply be ignored as another fairness cream campaign. Growth se no growth tak. Now in just 9 years. 

Mannu ji is more difficult to escape. Even if everyone just kept quiet, you would be reminded of him.

Then there is the army of revolutionaries, or as I fondly call them, 'The Cough parade'. The perennial victims. Like that studious kid, with possible noble intent, who wanted to top the class, be class monitor and all that. Always running to the headmistress - not because he thought he deserved more, but mostly because he wanted to present the other student's answer-sheet and get marks deducted. Or, he would just put his head down and whine.

Yet, no, they are not the poorest victim of this election episode. That would be my FB Feed. 

Yes. It is exciting time. It is an annoying time. It is an excitingly annoying and annoyingly exciting time. 

  

Movie Review: 2 States

Release date: 18th April 2014
Director: Abhishek Varman
Rating: 3.5/5

This one has all the elements of an entertainer: a story that, in some aspect, would connect to almost anyone's heart, acting that doesn't dazzle but doesn't invite brickbats either, a totally ogle-able female lead, a couple of witty dialogues and an extremely well composed music score.

If you are an IIMA grad, my sympathies,  and wish to relive your days on campus through this, you might be in for some disappointment. The college life, the falling in love, any reference to classes/placements is such a massive blur, it flashes past before you can say, "Oye! Ye campus mein unisex showers kabse lag gaye?". Arjun and Alia look rather out of place in the overall college setup (and I am really not patronizing them). It is, perhaps, not the most exciting of starts to any movie that has been as awaited as this one.

The story and the screenplay does pickup from thereon. Bhagat's storytelling is no shakespearean sonnet, and he indulges in a whole lot of caricaturing to make the state divide as stark as it could get, and create fodder for humour - which does make an appearance on quite a few occasions. As a punjabi, I cannot be completely delighted about the way the community has been presented, but there isn't much given away to the Tamilians, so Seri, Seri! Semma Tambi, etc, etc.

A few words on the young actors: Arjun Kapoor, you can shave your beard once in a while. The guy probably has it in his contract that he will look just the same in all scenes. There is a scene with a 7 year flashback - Kapoor looks just the same. Yes, the six pack and body hugging shirt too. He has fairly good comic timing which is only helped by his droopy resting face.

Alia. Perky performance. A convincing show with the emotional moments as well. Damn cute. Very cuddly. Strikingly sweet.. gobblewobblemush!

A thumbs up to a very believable (read not-bokwaas-dictionary level) Tamilian couple in Revathy and the guy playing her husband. And yes, Ronit Roy pulls off another fine performance as a ridiculously stern and uptight father after Udaan, this time with a change of heart to go along with.

The reason I extol the good points of the movie and still hand it a 3.5 is that I am from the camp which likes melodrama, masala and mush. Maybe, there was a way to do this story without all that and still pull it off well enough or better. So, a 0.5 cut for scope for improvement.

TL; DR: Have a long weekend? Do watch. You will have your share of hahas and awwws. It might not be one of the best we see this year, but a finely packed entertainer.

मधुशाला में एक शाम

जब उस दिन बैठे हम मधुशाला में,

तो बगल में बैठे थे नवयुग के बच्चन |

नशे में धुत, थे एक युवती पर टकटकी लगाये,

कुछ ठीक ना थे उनके लच्छन ||

दोस्त उनके केहकहे लगा रहे थे,

"भाभी, भाभी", फुसफुसा रहे थे |

करना तो चाहते थे जगज़ाहिर इश्क़ अपना,

पर जनाब थोड़ा हिचकिचा रहे थे ||

ठहाको की आवाज़ अब कुछ बढ़ने लगी थी,

पहुंच गयी थी तैरती युवती के कानो में |

यहाँ इस आशिक़ के दिल के तार बज रहे थे,

जैसे अमूमन बजते हैं फिल्मी गानो में ||

हम बैठे तो कुछ दूरी पर थे,

पर गौर से सारा माजरा देख रहे थे |

तभी बैरे ने आवाज़ देके सावधान किया,

बेध्याने हम चने का छिल्का ज़मीन पर ही फेंक रहे थे ||

अब युवती के कॅंप में भी गेहमा गेहमी चली,

सहेलियाँ अब उसे चिढ़ा रही थी |

उसके सब्र का बाँध जाने कब टूटा,

यकायक देखा तो वो पूर्व परिचित युवक की तरफ ही आ रही थी ||

मेज़ पर हाथ रख कुछ अदा, कुछ गुस्से से वो कही,

"लड़के, घूरके के देखो ना मूझे तुम यूं!" |

उड़े होश तब युवक बुदबुदाया,

"स्वेर छोटी ड्रेस में बॉम्ब लगदी मैनू" ||

उसके बाद जो तमाचे की आवाज़ हुई,

उससे चरमरा गया था पूरा माहौल |

ये छोटी से प्रेम गाथा बस यहीं समाप्त हुई,

थॅंक यौ फोल्क्स, दैट विल बी औल ||

Knock! Knock! Hue's there...

With daunting swagger his horse he rode,

“Holi kab hai.. kab hai holi?”, he mightily bellowed.

Splat! A water balloon struck his swaying belly,

Ramgarh it ain’t, my friend, welcome to Delhi.

Totally sure of the exact date nobody ain’t,

So in advance, bought the colours and grease paint.

A single day cannot be enough for all the fun,

Un-holi be their intent; gosh! I nearly forgot to make that pun.

Clouds of gulaal have livened up the morning sunny,

Aaj hai paani, paani, paani.

The vibrant clothes present a picture sublime,

Singer Big B gets a massive boost in air-time.

The festival brings with an assortment of sweets,

Also some tomfoolery, and lots of jiving to beats.

Sadly, some err on the tasteless side of merriment,

That their number is on the rise is my only lament.

So, with a prayer for a more colourful world,

I must put an end to this piece of poetry.

And like a father whose son is off to his prom,

I must tell you, “Have fun, but safe you must be!”

Love, New meanings

Sorry blog, for having made you feel neglected. Not sure if it was lack of inspiration, preoccupation of the mind, or plain and simple lethargy. However, here I am and I can be sure that makes you happy.

Yes. I talk to my blog at times. It has been a good listener and this quality of (it?) has lent great balance to our relationship because, as my more animate friends would testify, I love to talk a lot. In the last month and more of ‘blog’livion, I have made acquaintance with several hitherto little known (to me, at least) forms of what we like to call ‘Love’.

Fortunately or unfortunately, all of them have come from vicariously living through the experiences of characters on screen, and not out of personal experience. So, the last three movies I saw, namely ‘Dedh Ishqiya’, ‘Her’ and now ‘Highway’, talk of love. Uplifting, passionate, head in the clouds kind of love. Of feelings that are cheerful, heady and gut wrenching at the same time.

I feel proud when I see that a significant set of people involved in the art of movie-making have started to think beyond the realms of puppy love. Well, it is still a sort of puppy love, what they create in their films, but not between your regular twenty-odd year olds. Dedh Ishqiya tells the tale of a 60-something goon with the heart of a poet falling for a much younger (and much troubled) beauty. Then there is ‘Her’ which, in a rather soul-crushing manner, tells you of a man who is in a relationship with his sentient OS (who, by the way, has the plus of having Scarlett Johansson’s perfectly sensual voice!). And on an extremely different tangent, we have perky, innocent Alia (with a lot of Daddy issues, strictly in the movie) finding her mate in her kidnapper, in ‘Highway’.

If there is one common thread in all these, it is the connection that two souls feel. They say, opposites attract. And it is true, a lot of times. Yet, there are times when all it takes to press the button of your heart is someone who has been through similar experiences, talks about the same things; has the same amount of wonder, and the same amount of disdain. Alia and her kidnapper find their kinship in their desire for freedom from the invisible cage of society. In ‘Her’, an artificially intelligent OS, which is programmed to be a good companion, does not choose to be the owner’s opposite but becomes very much like him. Naseer and Madhuri also enjoy their fleeting moments of romance over their shared interest for art - poetry and dance - which are much the same in essence.

That, perhaps, has been much intense for the beginning of the weekend. Hoping to see more such lovely work from India and abroad, here I am. Clink. Clink. Clink. Raising a toast to the movies.

Look up I did, and beheld the tree above.

To a homeless bird it lent its cosy bark,

Rests its head in the dawn's quiet, but Hark!, 

Do ye not hear the Lord's song of Love?

Movie Review: Dedh Ishqiya

Release date: 10th Jan 2014
Director: Abhishek Chaubey
Rating: 4/5

It's unfortunate that the Saifai controversy has taken some sheen off the release of this brilliant work of art. For apart from the moral faux pas allegedly committed by the stars, there is little else to find fault with.

A review for a sequel (or a quasi stage for a sequel with the 1.5) would merit one to compare it to its predecessor. I remember the first one was a lovely entertainer in totality. Yet, apart from a dialogue or few, I have little recollection of the finer nuances of the movie - which is saying something considering just last night I was able to guess a rather old song from its first few notes and sing along, and it goes thus, "Chudi mazaa na degi... kangan mazaa na dega".

I must assure you that Dedh Ishqiya aapko zaroor mazaa degi. Betahasha mazaa. The mellifluous Urdu delivered by none other than the finest actors of our age Naseeruddin Shah have to rub off on its audience. It would help to know that the movie is extremely heavy on its Hindi and Urdu. But people who don't have Hindi as their mother tongue need not worry. We, the native Hindi speakers don't get a lot of it either. Hence, the filmmakers have been gracious to provide english subtitles. Distracting at times, but useful at most others.

Ok, so where do we start. The performances are exquisite. Everybody from the loud-mouth ruffian Arshad Warsi, the rather grey Huma Qureshi to the lanky, wannabe 'Nawab' Vijay Raaz delivers a very convincing performance. And then we come to good ol' Madhuri. Literally. There is no doubt age has started to show on her - the botox isn't helping, neither is the loud makeup. Yet grace does not wear away with age.

And this role was handcrafted for her. There are small dance sequences where you realize no other leading lady in Bollyland could have pulled this off. There are moments of romance between the aged Naseer and ageing Madhuri when there is no physicality, no words, hardly any music, yet the passion and longing is so intense, it makes your heart cringe.

The visuals are astute - the kind which make even cramped streets, ransacked dungeons and trash piles look wonderfully aesthetic. The dialogues are almost entirely in verse. There is so much in there for the die-hard romantics. Pick-up lines that you could only dream of coming up with. Exhortations of love that ricochet off your mind, your heart, your guts and well out from the eyes. And a special mention to those fine moments when Madhuri endearingly calls out Naseer by his name, almost killing him with fulfilment. "Iftekhar!", she utters. And you, in the audience, are swooning and wishing you were called that.

Well, I hope there are further instalments to this. I hope the Dedh is an indication of the Do to come. I hope our two vagabonds are back with another muse.

The Wolf of Wall Street: the Ad Hominem fallacy

I saw the Wolf of Wall Street this weekend. No surprises there. I believe almost everyone who is one or has kids whose coming years could be scarred by the sequences in the movie did.

Firstly, the movie release in India was delayed - something that has become less frequent of late. Then, I did not get the opportunity to watch the movie on Friday night itself. Evidently, by the time I set foot in the movie hall, my expectations were as tall as Deepika Padukone's legs. A tinge of disappointment was hard to avoid even though I found it to be a very fine work, rife with flamboyance, and delivered in rather astute fashion.

However, there was little about it that blew your mind, in my view. Interestingly, if one were to tell me to comment on a expectations vs. delivery chart, I found a lot of similarities in the output of the movie in question, and another much-awaited series bit from 'Sherlock' which came out almost at the same time as well. Both the pieces were carved out to deliver a spectacle, prove that the creators are not just unafraid of deviating from the usual but take great pains to do that, all the while paying little heed to the narrative.

They are part of the ilk of things wherein if you don't like them, it is assumed that you could not understand the profundity of what the creator was trying to convey. It's always like, "Did you see the the incline of the shadow of the third leaf in the fourth tree in the last scene? What, no? Well, it was in the direction of the 4 o'clock hand in a clock which is precisely when some obscure freedom movement zillions of years ago started! Gosh, how exhilarating!"

Ok, seriously, for those of you who have read the likes of Shakespeare in school/college or, in a context more related to this post, saw the 'intellectually loaded' movies, have you not ever felt that a lot of interpretations of movie visuals, sounds, camera angles, merely a concoction of vastly idle (albeit creative) minds in the audience? Just because these people were great thinkers implies every work of theirs will have layers of meanings that the aam aadmis will then take years to unravel.

Take for instance this review of WoWS, in no less a publication than the New Yorker. Now this guy has this pretty convincing opinion on how Scorsese played a masterstroke in the last scene of the movie by showing the blank faces of the audience, in the process letting the movie audience see a reflection of themselves in awe of the filthy rich, sleazy druggy Mr. Belfort. A rather haunting observation. I have no reasons to say this was not the case. But what if all Mr.Scorsese said was, "Oye chote, camera angle peeche leja. Fufaji ke bacchon ko screen pe dikhna hai."

Well, I am sure Farah Khan showed scenes of the audience watching 'Om Shanti Om' in sequences of the movie 'Om Shanti Om'. I am sure there were people in there going 'Dafuq just happened!'. No one ever said, "See, the audience is being presented a reflection of themselves".

The same with Sherlock, and innumerable other texts, poems, movies in the recent, long back and ancient history. All these writers (and I respect a whole bunch of them for their exquisite words) have at times received undue credit just because someone reading their verses, hundreds of years after they were written, took his creativity a step further, eked out some outlandish derivative of the author's words and exclaimed, "So ahead of his time, bro. So very ahead."

In this category, my favourite is that guy who wrote this beaten to death story titled, "The Lady or the Tiger". That lazy ass thought up this ingenious scheme of free-riding and leaving the conclusion to the reader. More than a century later, poor Indian kids are wondering why the tiger did not gulp up the author himself.

There are times when I believe that a all a lot of people in the world need to is relax. Not make too much of things, because well some things just happen, some people just say stuff or write stuff just because.

Sit back. Enjoy. Get up and, like always, go back to work tomorrow. At times, life and all that there is to it is rather ordinary. And that is perfectly OK!